


Meet and Greet

by rthstewart



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: 3 Sentence Fiction, But Not 3 Sentences, Gods and Goddesses, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart
Summary: For the Three Sentence Ficathon, Narnia, any (minor) gods and goddessesSpoiler:  not three sentencesCaspian meets the VIPs at the Revel
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48





	Meet and Greet

_Anonymous, Narnia, any, (minor) gods and godesses_

* * *

"Come," the High King says, "It is time for you to meet the other gods who walk the land you will rule."

Susan takes one of his hands, and Peter takes the other and they follow the raucous noise to a clearing near the Ford. It is all stranger and wilder than anything from Doctor Cornelius's texts or even the worst of the Telmarine cautionary nursery stories – don't go into the Wood or Tree will eat you!

"Peter! Susan! We are well-met!" a curly haired, beautiful youth cries. The barely clothed women dancing about him surge forward to embrace Peter and Susan who laugh and pull Caspian along

"My lord Bacchus, may I make known to you our Heir, newly crowned King Caspian of Narnia," Peter says as Susan mutters, _bow or he'll turn you into a pig_.

"My lord," Caspian stammers out. "Be welcome in my kingdom."

"More like you be welcome in _mine_ , little King. Narnia belongs to her Beasts, the Trees and the Waters and those of the Wood claim me as theirs."

Caspian bows again, murmuring, "Just so, Lord Bacchus," waits to see if a tail will spring from his hind end but instead the god roars, "Peter and Susan! Why stand here! My Maenads are on their knees for you both! And where are…"

"BAAAACHUS!" Lucy squeals and pelts down the slope of the dell into the god's arms for a kiss that makes Caspian blush.

"You don't get him all to yourself, Lu," Edmund says, having appeared from nowhere.

"Edmund," the god rumbles with a possessive pleasure, and their grappling embrace makes Caspian wish the ground could swallow him up.

Susan laughs and pulls him away. "Let's allow them to get sorted, shall we? Peter!"

The High King has to wade, quite happily, through fawning Maenads, one already on her knees before him.

* * *

Next they come upon Birds and small woodland Beasts all clustered around a fat woman, naked as a babe, heavy breasted and wide- hipped, darker than the earth, with berries in her hair, and eyes older than time itself. She holds out her dirty hands and he kisses them.

"The Lady Pomona," Susan says. "Lady, your apples sustained us through lean times not a week ago. I regret I cannot give you my body's fertile blood in thanks today."

Peter bows deeply before the goddess. "Lady, my thanks as well. I would give you my seed today, in gratitude for your gifts, if you wish it."

The Brown Lady laughs and music surrounds them. "Nay, my King and Queen. I am pleased that plantings from so long ago continued to bear fruit with my blessing. Today is for celebration, not solemnity. You liberated my folk. But as for you, young King Caspian…"

Caspian startled. "Lady? How may I be of service?"

"When the time comes you shall walk the fields with me and bless it with your seed as all who ruled Narnia have done since She was."

Pomona gestured broadly and the Trees swayed and sang. "My sister, Epona, waits for you."

"Seed?" he mutters to Peter as they follow Susan who is dashing to a meadow where the horses, goats, cows, and other beasts of the fields are stomping and bugling.

"Oh, yes," Peter says casually and plucks some berries from a bush that has blossomed with Pomona's passing. "You know, you can lie with the goddess, of course, if you wish, or just pleasure yourself and cum in the orchards. Either works."

"Did you do that?" Caspian whispers, fascinated and horrified.

"Of course! Susan too, well, the Queens leave their monthly blood."

"But…"

Peter pauses and turns to stare down at him. He brushes his hair out of his eyes and lush berries stain his fingers and leave a savage mark across his face. "You're the King of Narnia, Caspian. I cannot leave Narnia in the hands of one who would do less than I. And that means giving the gods and goddesses who walk these lands their due."

The High King is speaking, the one who Aslan has chosen to rule over all who have come before and shall come after. "Are you so Telmarine that you cannot be Narnia?"

"No. No. I will. I promise."

"Swear it. Swear that you will remember the gods in your devotions, that you will give them their offerings, that you will protect those who look to them and follow the old ways."

Caspian lowers his head and kisses the hands of the High King. "I swear it."

"Come on!" Susan cries. "You must meet Epona!" The Queen is dancing in the meadow about a beautiful snorting and prancing white mare – one that Caspian would never dare put a saddle on.

And Peter's stern mood passes with a laugh. "Epona is Lady Protector of Horses and Herds. You don't have an apple, do you? Any corn?"

Caspian checks his pockets just to be sure and then shakes his head.

"Just promise her you will leave an offering at the meadow's edge.

Caspian admired Epona and then Susan and Peter dragged him back to the Wood, through the weaving and swaying revelers. A throng of drunken, rowdy Fauns and Satyrs surrounded them and drew them into a dark thicket of dense, trembling trees.

"Father Pan," Susan called as they were spun into a wild dance. Father Pan was reclining in a bower, roaring drunk and enveloped by ecstatic, adoring Satyrs and Fauns. Caspian was spun into a wild dance with the Beings of the Wood, held in strong, burly arms and clasped against rough, hairy chests. As two grinning Satyrs tried to pull him down to join them in Pan's bower, Susan danced between them and pulled him away.

"Should I have bowed to him?" Caspian asked, worried that he might have offended the god.

"Not unless you were prepared to pleasure him," Peter said, drinking deeply from a skin someone has thrust at him.

"And Father Pan won't remember!" Susan assured him. "His business is exclusively with the Fauns and Satyrs and except for the very occasional Revel, he's rarely seen."

She raised the skin to her lip, took a sip, and started coughing. "Ugh, Peter, you know I can't abide Satyr drink."

"More for me, then." Peter took the skin back and another sip, but was quite solemn. "It may seem frivolous, but devotion to Father Pan is most serious, and he reliably comes to Narnia only when a Faun or Satyr dies – his spirit goes to Aslan's country and his body is returned to their Mother trees. Pan will come and take the body and eventually return his child into this world in the likeness of the one who died."

Caspian dusted the coarse reddish hair from his shirt and Peter took another deep drink from skin – it smelled very potent.

"So, where next, Su?"

"The bonfire. I have a feeling we might see an old friend there."

They lead him to the light and heat of the fires that had been lit, passing an old man, who was asleep on a dozing donkey – both were twined in grape vines.

"Silenus," Peter said. "He usually arrives with Bacchus to bless the grapes for a Revel. Raise your next glass in his honor."

In one of the outer fires, Peter excused the Dwarfs who had been smoking their pipes and gestured for Susan. "You knew him best."

Susan drew him forward and down to the ground, to kneel before the fire. It was warm, but not uncomfortable and, with each pop and crack of the tinder, embers and ash spiraled up above them.

"If it please you, my lord," Susan said.

"It does not, Gentle but not Gentled Susan," came a very cranky voice from inside the fire.

The speaker crawled out from the fire. He was a squat, black, lizard-like creature, mottled with brilliant yellow and orange spots. Fire glowed under his dark skin and his flat tongue darted out of his mouth. He turned his head and his black eye fixed on Caspian.

"Oh, it's you. Took you long enough."

"My lord," Caspian replied.

"Caspian," Susan said. "This is Xucoatl, the Fire Lizard and his home is on many worlds. He is very wise, a soothsayer, and a riddler."

Behind him, Peter muttered, "And very vague."

"Has my cousin showed up yet? You can't miss him. He's your cousin and a dragon."

"I don't have a cousin who…" Caspian began but Xucoatl cut him off crossly.

"No, not you. I was talking to Gentle but not Gentled Susan."

"We have no cousin who is a dragon, my lord," Susan answered. Caspian heard Peter say something about "Cousin Useless."

"And as for you, Caspian, Farer of Seas, dragons are fine, just don't play with snakes. Come back when you know the one question most important to you that you must have an answer to. But only one."

"How will I know?" Caspian asked.

"You will."

Xucoatl turned around and waddled back into the fire.

"He's always a little unsettling," Susan said, looping her arm in his. "I've seen him several times and he is never wrong but I never understand what he means…"

"Until it's too late." Peter whistled suddenly. "Well, that's interesting."

Susan craned her neck for a view of the dell opening up beneath them on the wood path. "Oh!"

Embarrassingly, she paused and brushed the hair off his shirt and Peter tried smoothing his hair.

Caspian waved them off. "What is it?"

Peter nodded toward the dell. "A great honour. I wonder who invited them?"

"Who?"

"The five gods," Susan replied.

Caspian thought she meant it as an oath, but then understood. These were gods he knew of from his own lessons in history and diplomacy, the five gods of Calormen.

He sedately followed Peter and Susan who had suddenly donned a somber mantle. This wasn't worship – this was diplomacy.

"Welcome to Narnia," Susan said. She nodded her head slightly, a welcome, not obeisance. Peter mimicked the Queen and Caspian followed their lead.

Caspian addressed the goddesses first – a tall female appearance, veiled and richly dressed, a small, slight girl, cloaked completely in black, and a plump, darkly skinned, gray haired woman in loose robes crowned with greens and grains. "Mother Azaroth, Lady of the Night, Lady Atanta, I am Caspian."

"We wished to congratulate Brother Aslan," Mother Azaroth said in a rich, cultured voice. "As he is pleased, so then are we."

"Speak for yourself," the rat muttered. "I didn't come all the way here to see that bloody cat."

A small hawk sitting on a branch answered. "Careful, or he'll eat you. Again."

"Trickster," Caspian said, nodding to the rat. More slowly, he nodded a final time. "Lord Tash."

The Trickster waved a paw. "I'll be going. Brother Bacchus promised me he'd share." The rat vanished.

"I shall leave offerings for each of you when I visit your country," Caspian said. "Until then, thank you."

"Well said, Caspian of Narnia," Mother Azaroth said. The goddesses disappeared.

The hawk – Tash, the god of foresight and farseeing, stared at him a moment longer. His voice was measured and cool when he spoke. "A long life you shall have, Caspian. But not a happy one. Your pain, though, shall not be come at my hand."

With a flash of light, the hawk disappeared.


End file.
